


The Pitfalls Of Being a Wingman

by BullySquadess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Remix Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: We all know the classic Marichat tale, but what's happening behind the scenes of our favorite duo's love-making? Written for Miraculous Remix 2016 and takes place during Chapter 13 of Chiomi's "tongues of mortals and angels".





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [tongues of mortals and angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7559821) by [Chiomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/pseuds/Chiomi). 



> Ah! My first fic exchange! I was lucky enough to be paired with the organizer of this event, and I hope I managed to do their story justice. I've never remixed another author's work before, and am notoriously bad at nailing the whole "Marichat Dynamic", but in the end I found this to be a great new learning experience. Hope you enjoy Chiomi!

There were certain responsibilities that came with being a kwami — standards that other godly beings weren’t held to.

See, while kwami were just as ancient and powerful and immortal as other deities (perhaps even more so in the case of two in particular), being tied to a miraculous meant remaining tethered to the mortal earth. There was no throne room waiting for them in some higher place. There were no alters, nor sacred tombs.

Kwami did not get worshipers. Kwami did not get religions.

Kwami got holders, wielders. Kwami got immense power, but only so long as it was channeled through those humble (human) enough to direct it.

And sometimes, as Plagg could sure tell you, kwami got demoted to wingman status while their legendary might was used as a means of getting laid.

The black cat burst from his miraculous with a sigh, having the sense to immediately zoom down from the loft lest he get an eyeful of his chosen and his _ahem_ paramour. Knowing that it would likely be a few minutes (he could at least give Adrien that much credit on his stamina), Plagg searched out a suitable hiding spot, finding sanctuary in the form of a yarn-filled knitting basket. Paying due mind to the sharp looking needles that stuck out here and there, he nestled among the soft orbs in hopes of grabbing some rest, but those dreams were dashed as the tell-tale sound track of giggling and moaning and foil crinkling filled the room.

Plagg sighed, bracing himself for another awkward round of forced voyeurism.

He didn’t understand it. Not really. If a thousand years of living had taught him anything it was that humans were more than capable of giving themselves sexual pleasure without seeking help from each other. Why they didn’t rely on their own hands to sate their desires and save the rutting for when they wanted to pop out an offspring, Plagg couldn’t tell you.

All he knew is that, for all their talk of being of being a so-called 'civilized species,' humans hadn’t changed all that much from those early days of bone-tipped spears and pelted loincloths.

(He would know. He’d been there.)

“Yes,” a feminine voice gasped from a distance, and Plagg heaved another sigh, tunneling further into his nest and stuffing yarn into his ears to try and block out the noise.

Females, he’d discovered much against his own will, tended to be more vocal in the throes of passion than their less-fair counterparts. Which is exactly why he dreaded being paired with some bright-eyed, innocent-smiled young lady of a Chat Noir, knowing it would be no more than a few months before whatever sense of propriety she’d developed at the prospect of sharing a room would wear off, and she’d be right back to back to moaning loudly into her pillow at night- keeping him up as she called out the name of whomever it was she fancied that week and generally making his life a hassle.

As if that wasn’t annoying enough, from there it would only get worse. From there Chat would inevitably go running off to find her Ladybug, seeking her partner out as if her very sanity depended on it. As if having another person fiddle between her legs made any difference whatsoever! As if she really needed the literal embodiment of destruction’s help transforming her when she was just as capable of walking or horseback riding or taking a carriage/trolley/cab/whatever people were using to get around that particular decade to her lover’s bed!

(Again, he’d been around a long time. Long enough to know distance was never much of a deterrent to a horny teenager.)

Oh! But the worst cases, Plagg decided, came about when both Ladybug and Chat Noir were females. Then it was twice the incessant moaning and double the little shrieks. Gods the whole wretched, boring experience lasted so much longer when there was no refectory period in place. Just hours on end of them going to work on each other’s downstairs bits as he and Tikki were left to-

“How romantic!”

He would say 'speak of the devil,' but that was hilariously inaccurate for a being made of life and creation.

Tikki sighed, fluttering down to his hideout to make her first appearance of the night. “Are they cute together or what?”

“Or what,” Plagg grumbled.

“Oh stop sulking,” Tikki tittered, floating up to glimpse a peek at the action before one black paw yanked her back down with a hiss. “You never let Ladybug and Chat Noir have any fun.”

“Fun?! I let them have loads of fun! And how do they repay me? By making me sit around while they swap germs.”

“It’s romantic!”

Plagg scoffed. “It’s unsightly, is what it is. And downright disgusting to listen to.”

“Says the one who voluntarily eats camembert…”

“A little rot in your diet is good for the soul.”

Tikki wrinkled up her snout, gagging on her tongue, and the next pair of human moans that echoed through the room nearly made Plagg do the same.

“Marinette~” Adrien whispered, or… at least maybe he thought he whispered. In all actuality his husky pant of her name carried remarkably well across the room, prompting a sigh from one kwami and a wretch from the other.

“Okay this! This is getting ridiculous! Why don’t they just— uuuugghhh!” Plagg pulled hard at the end of his ears, tail lashing in annoyance. “Why don’t they just tell each other who they are?! They live right down the street from each other! They could walk to each other’s houses and do this without involving me!”

“But where’s the mystery in that?” Tikki replied, eyes glimmering. She all but swooned, most likely recalling every bodice-ripping novel and period romance she’d consumed (much to his woe) over the past century or so. “Where’s all the excitement and allure of their forbidden love?”

“There. Is. No. Forbidden. Love.” Plagg ground between his fangs. “This isn’t the 1400’s. Their families aren’t going to burst in with pitchforks and burn them at the stake for betraying the patrilineal bloodline. Worst case scenario they blush themselves to death and we have to go find new chosens…”

A particularly loud moan echoed through the room.

“…Which, at this point, doesn’t seem like such a tragedy to me.”

“Oh you just don’t understand young love, Mr. Sulkypants.”

“I am not a Mr. Sulkypants,” Plagg grumbled, actively sulking.

The two kwami momentarily quieted as they heard someone dismount the loft, not knowing which of the teens it was. Thankfully, the room was dark. Tikki giggled softly when she saw it was Adrien, watching him wobble on unsteady legs to the garbage can before returning to bed, whereas Plagg merely dug himself out from his yarn nest with a stretch.

“Whelp!” he said, not at all trying to hide his glee at the prospect of returning home to his cheese supply. “Looks like my work here is done!”

“You didn’t do anything,” Tikki dismissed, resuming her not-so-subtle spying of what was going on in the loft.

(And she called him the nosy one!)

Plagg rolled his eyes, though the gesture was made with unimaginable fondness, and lifted from the basket.

Gaze still trained on the lovebirds, Tikki jumped as she felt his arms wrap her up into a familiar hug, swallowing the smile that threatened to tear her face in half.

“Kept you company, didn’t I?”

The cat released his partner with a reluctance he’d never admit to, expertly arranging his face into a mask of aloof disinterest perfected by his species. He sighed when Adrien beckoned him to the loft, heaving himself up into the air as if this whole night was just one big burden, but as the sound of Tikki’s trademark giggle pelted his retreating back, Plagg couldn’t help but let slip a grin.

Perhaps there were some bright spots to being a glorified wingman.


End file.
